Epiphany
by The Forgotten Phoenix
Summary: A child's faith can be a very tricky thing. With the threat of the Saiyan's on the way, and Goku dead, the powers that be conspire to weaken Gohan's faith in his father. Feeling that he can't rely on Goku to save the day, this is Gohan's story as he comes to term with his responsibilities towards protecting the Earth and becoming the hero that perhaps his father could not be.
1. Sudden Clarity

A solemn, stiff wind passed through the wasteland, heard only by the most isolated, time-worn souls. In the barren meadow just a stone's throw away, lay the vanishing body of the Earth's most valiant hero. Its form, as ephemeral as it was, was dissolving before everybody's eyes. The grassland, once vivacious and fertile, seemed duller—less exuberant than the arable pasture it once was.

If Piccolo was a believer in poetic justice, he would've asserted that this interesting phenomenon was the work of some deity who used the behavior of nature as a signal to his own thoughts on the lamentable nature of the day's events. Of course, Piccolo wasn't a disciple of such thought, so it really didn't apply.

Stoic as he was, he did have to admit that the passing of his archrival did impact him somewhat. He wouldn't let himself be grieved, like some of the man's closer friends and associates, but there was a distinct lack of closure that aggravated the demon. Perhaps his expectations were a bit dramatic or theatrical, but killing his rival on his own terms wasn't exactly what he envisioned his moment of glory was going to be. His victory seemed so… hollow and meaningless.

That was then and this was now, though. And the not-so-far future was looking bleak. Unless they could find a way to get significantly stronger in a very short amount of time, then their victory against Goku's "brother" only delayed the inevitable.

Although he didn't consider himself to be overly cynical or self-critical, Piccolo did have to ponder the possibility that he may not be able to get strong enough in time. If Raditz was really so much weaker than his friends, then was there anything that could be done? What could he do in case his best efforts were swept aside?

Deep down, Piccolo knew the answer to that question. After all, he wouldn't have gone to trouble of kidnapping his rival's progeny if he was even remotely doubtful of the boy's capabilities. In one, albeit nasty, headbutt, the boy had done more damage to their resilient foe than the combined onslaught of both himself and his nemesis combined. It would be stupid to not craft such a volatile gift into a game-changing weapon for the perilous days to come.

But this boy wasn't just some polished diamond sitting in the sand waiting to be adorned. It was going to take a lot of work getting such a brat into fighting shape, with time they didn't have much of to begin with. More importantly, the boy had to realize the true scale of what he had wandered himself into. One day, long before anybody could've conceived, the boy may have to take his father's mantle just to survive. Sad thing was that the brat just may not have realized it. And it was his job to make him.

Any doubts the demon king had about the devastating potential of his charge had melted away when he witnessed the kid's wrath for the second time. There was no mistaking things or any denial to hide under. This kid was something special—and unless Piccolo was content ruling a barren rock, he may, in time, have to be the linchpin to the Earth's survival.

Problem was, and it was immediately obvious to Piccolo, that the brat really wasn't getting it. Having no recollection of his power probably exacerbated the condition, but the kid clearly didn't understand the importance of his role in what he was trying to convey to him. But how could he? As always, the Namekian had an idea.

Meanwhile, the brat himself was gawking at the massive line of dirt he had uprooted. Clueless to his involvement in its creation, the boy couldn't quite grasp how such a massive track of earth could just appear out of nowhere. "Wowie, look at that!"

Maneuvering behind the kid, Piccolo smirked as the boy stared inquisitively at the extraordinary sight. Deciding that it was best to burst the kid's bubble, the demon began to speak, taking his self-elected charge by surprise. "You caused that, kid."

Turning towards the green demon like he had sprouted a second head, the boy's brow arched while his eyes slightly widened. "Really?" It was clear the brat would need more… persuading.

"Yes, you were the one who did that," stated Piccolo, his tone neutral and composed. A part of him was somewhat impressed by the kid's abilities, but he'd rather die than let that show. He had a reputation to uphold after all. "Power like that is rare, kid. Very useful, but only when the person is in control. That's why we are here: to shape this potential into something more."

The brat wasn't going to be making this easy. Instead of comprehending what his self-appointed teacher was saying, the kid looked confused and flustered, like the admission raised far more questions than answers. Something told the green demon that they were going to be talking for awhile.

"Why do you need me? After my dad, you're the strongest fighter on the planet—shouldn't you be able to do anything I could do?"

Taking a moment to deeply inhale and exhale, the Namekian crossed his arms across his chest and scowled. "And both your father and I were being beaten until you came out of nowhere and injured Goku's brother. Kid, whether you choose to believe me or not, you have talent that shouldn't be ignored, especially not now. The battles to come will be much more grueling, and we may need the extra help."

Gohan said nothing in reply.

This was going to be harder than he thought. The kid was even more dense than his father, if such a thing were possible. Deeply breathing, lest he start to yell, the demon began to think of another way to get at the boy. Being direct, his preferred approach, just wasn't cutting it.

"Boy, your father's dead, and there are even more powerful opponents coming—"

"My dad's dead?" blurted out Gohan, utterly taken aback by this relatively unassuming factoid. The boy's mouth hung agape comically, his eyes almost bugging out of his eye sockets.

`Of course, the boy was knocked out cold when the idiot died,' surmised Piccolo begrudgingly, having a hard time not growling at the undignified reaction to his archrival's untimely demise. He wasn't surprised, though. If all of the idiot's friends practically groveled at his grave, imagine what his crybaby son would do. Whatever the case, he had to thank fate that the boy hadn't stirred when his father was dying. That would've been an embarrassing waterworks display.

Upon closer inspection, though, the demon recognized an opportunity. Goku had an infectious personality, bordering on that of a cult of personality, between him and his friends. True, the earthlings weren't exactly slackers, but it didn't take a genius to figure out that most of them relied on Goku to beat the big enemies.

Goku's son would probably be even more trapped in that kind of mindset. The fact that he didn't have any fighting experience no doubt strengthened this faith. He probably didn't think he _had _to do anything, not as long as his father had a fighting chance.

Quickly and ever so swiftly, the cogs in Piccolo's head began to rapid fire. If he could find a way to establish a breach in faith between the son and his father, then the boy would be far less comfortable about his chances. Vulnerability produces fear and fear produces drive. `And drive is exactly what this brat needs.'

The groundwork of his methodology complete, the Namekian stood still and said nothing. Silence in general was a very good destabilizer; it created a palpable atmosphere of anxiety, which Piccolo was better at handling than his self-elected squire. Getting the boy off balance was the first step in his plan.

As assumed, the tension of the exchange affected Gohan far moreso than his self-appointed teacher. Gulping audibly, the boy looked up at Piccolo to see what his kidnapper was going to say. After almost half-a-minute of no response, the boy's hands began to squirm and wiggle around anxiously across his body.

Smirking offhandedly, the demon king almost had to snort when a small gale of wind blew through the pillared plain and caused his cape to billow hauntingly, adding to the already tense environment. Sensing that it was an opportune moment to bid adieu, Piccolo decided that he had put the boy through enough for now. "Yes, Goku is dead. Stabbed right through the heart."

Piccolo was very careful with his wording, as he always was. He spoke the truth, but it wouldn't have been very conducive to his endgame to admit that it was _he _who shot Goku through the chest. Sure, taking claim of something like that would probably motivate the brat and stir him into action, but not in a good way. Saying something like that would probably make training the boy unnecessarily complicated, and that was if he didn't burn the boy's bridges immediately.

"Oh," muttered Gohan glumly, his expression crestfallen upon hearing the confirmation of his father's death. Piccolo could somewhat sympathize, or at least empathize, with the boy. After all, he had pretty much started life in a conspicuously similar situation. Nevertheless, there were more important issues to attend to for him to soften up on the boy even a bit.

"How do you expect your father to save you if he's dead?" asked Piccolo snidely, keeping the question open for the boy to answer.

Visibly squinting, the boy pulled himself off the ground and rested his arms meekly over his waist as he thought of a response. "Um, wouldn't my daddy's friends bring him back with the Dragon Balls?"

Snorting out of habit, the Namekian almost wanted to curse at Gohan's response. He was almost hoping that the boy hadn't been told about the mystical relics. It would've made his job so much easier if the boy earnestly believed that his dad couldn't come back from the dead. Since he did, the demon had to find another way of convincing the child. "Did your dad forget to mention that it takes a year for the Dragon Balls to become active again? What makes you think the Saiyans will not have already arrived by then? Did he mention to you that the Dragon Balls can take years at a time to find? Do you think your dad's little buddies friends have the time to go on a mad goose chase with their lives on the line?"

Looking up crossly at the green demon, the boy put his hands on his chest and curled his lip. "He'll be there and I know he'll be there," he exclaimed, still confident in his dad's magical prowess for keeping the people he cared for safe and sound.

"How cute," scoffed Piccolo, his cape still billowing behind him ominously to accentuate his disgust. "That's brave words, kid. You willing to wager your life on that? Are you prepared to handle the consequences if you're wrong?"

Not comprehending the full scope of Piccolo's words, all Gohan could do was mutely lower his head and meekly scratch the back of his noggin in contemplation. He wasn't ready to handle a direct interrogation by one of the most scary figures he had ever heard of. "Uh… I don't know."

"Precisely, kid. You don't know," muttered the demon, his expression becoming more and more grim as time went on. The kid was becoming more reflective, more doubtful. `Good, now to finish off the job.'

"Let me reword that: are you willing to wager your home on this assumption? Are you prepared to brave the consequences if you're wrong?"

Clutching his head like he was crushing an apple, the boy looked to be on the verge of tears as the questioning got more heated and pressing. It was clear that the kid was having a bit of a crisis of confidence. "I… don't know."

`One more push and he should be set,' mused Piccolo, thinking that ending this affair quickly would be for the best. The seed had been sown in the boy and now it was just time to cover the seed with dirt. "I'll leave you to answer this question for yourself. Think long and hard about how willing you are to entrust your faith in a person who may not even show up."

"For the first six months, you'll be learning to simply survive by whatever means you can," stated Piccolo, moving onto other matters. Any more talk about Goku would now be beating a dead horse. He said his piece and now it was time to let it be. "By the end of the six months, you should be ready to learn how to fight."

And with that, Piccolo phased out of the wasteland, leaving Gohan to gather himself and embark on a whole new journey.

* * *

_Back in time just before Gohan became acquainted to Piccolo._

Nothing is more exhilarating—scratch that, jarring—than having pond water splashed in your face while you slumber. Being the little boy he was, Gohan's natural response to this sudden discomfort was a bout of sobs. However, as the boy quickly discovered for himself, his mentor was not appreciative of his waterworks and lacked the ability or desire to tolerate it.

In almost a matter of seconds, the confrontation between the two became violent. Before Gohan knew it, Piccolo had a hold of his head and chucked him at the nearest landmass he could find. From there, thinking he was going to die young, the boy's consciousness faded away and his power arose.

After his momentary explosion of energy died down, the boy opened his eyes to the puzzling sight of a massive track of upturned earth staring him straight in the face. Eyes bulging funnily, he allowed the sight to monopolize his attention until Piccolo stole it back again.

Imagine the boy's shock when he came to learn that it was _he _who had caused what he was witnessing. Personally, the child had a hard time believing it. He certainly didn't recall ever doing something so destructive but he wasn't going to argue with the forever grumpy Piccolo about his doubts.

But it wasn't just that he had this awesome energy residing within him, it was also the reason that Piccolo had dragged him out into the middle of nowhere. Again, the boy really couldn't follow his mentor's train of thought. Why was the second strongest fighter on the planet, his father's mortal enemy, going to this kind of effort to recruit his rival's son? Since when was he something more than a normal boy?

That and besides, his dad could protect him from any wrongdoer that would come his way. Ultimately, the boy didn't feel there was any need for him to be there.

The next series of facts startled the boy, hobbled him even. For one, he was entirely unaware of the fact that this `power' Piccolo kept preaching about surfaced during the battle between his dad and that bully. Even more flooring was the statement that it was this power that altered the outcome of the battle significantly.

Goku's death proved to be even more of a tremor to the boy's system, one of which he couldn't keep to himself reluctantly. His dad was unbeatable, and no bad guy could ever hope to prevail over him. At least that was what he thought.

Pardoning his French, the boy found the entire idea of him wounding that tyrant silly. If his dad couldn't even lay a finger on the man, what could he do? The mere hint was enough to rile the boy a little. Why was Piccolo lying to him about his influence on the battle? What he was saying just couldn't be true! Why did he care so much about whatever he could do?

Nevertheless, the boy could admit to himself that what Piccolo was telling could be true. It did explain a couple things, like why he was even there in the first place. He doubted his dad would've consented to what was going on, provided he still was alive and kicking.

Bending down slightly to avoid eye contact with his kidnapper, the boy shed a few silent tears over the death of his dad. It was a hard pill to swallow, one that would take him more than one day to completely recover from. However, at least they could still revive him with the Dragon Balls! Surely, he'd be back before these tougher bullies would show up!

Enlightenment could be a drag. Piccolo did have a point about the limit the Dragon Balls had. If these bullies showed up within the year, then his father wouldn't be around to defend them. What then? Could they win without his father at the helm? Somehow, the boy found it hard to imagine anything bad happening without his dad having a say about it.

Piccolo wasn't convinced. Striking back right at the crux of the issue, the man tore back the defenses Gohan had used to shield himself from some of his doubts. How could his dad help him if he's dead, if he no longer has the power to save him?

Eventually, the boy could only say that he didn't know. And then Piccolo struck right back again with an even larger scope of focus. Like his dad, the larger focus of Piccolo's questioning hurt the boy harder than before. Putting things in planetary terms rung far more than personal terms. It was downright cruel to say that his trust could wind up killing off the entire planet! Yet, the boy could think of nothing to say but that he didn't know.

Then, surprisingly, Piccolo's stopped his questioning and said he had six months to figure out for himself whether his faith was reasonable. Before the boy could ask exactly what the demon meant with his wording, the man was gone with the wind, leaving him alone in the lonely wilderness. Whatever the green guy's motives were, they were probably very wicked!

Looking over his shoulder for a brief moment, the boy sighed as only a prairie wind passed by to welcome him to his new secluded home. Crouching down on the ground, the boy readjusted his pose so that it appeared that he was meditating.

Contrary to the opinion of many that knew Goku, the man did meditate on occasion. Most fighters did, even if the reason escaped Gohan at the time. There were the rare occasions that the man wasn't exactly feeling or acting like himself, and generally it was in these moments when he meditated. He knew this because he had asked his father why, and he had told him. At the time, the boy still didn't have a complete grasp of what his dad had meant, but now he felt he understood better. And now, in his time of need, the boy began to emulate him. Like father, like son, you could say.

Alone and detached from sights around him, the boy's mind became more and more fixated on one increasingly more likely thought: one that haunted him, one that was challenging his entire perspective on life as he knew it.

Just what if his father really wasn't strong enough to save him from this?

Yes, it seemed sacrilegious to say. It felt awful, like acid was poured straight on his heart. But in the end, Gohan really was having a hard time finding a scenario where he could dismiss it without a second thought. The more he hyperventilated on the possibility, the more he had to think it could be a probability.

Since the moment he could form words in his mouth, the boy had believed that his father could beat any villain, cure any wound and solve any problem. Perhaps it was natural for sons to have that view of their fathers, but Gohan practically idolized his. Therefore, the pain of thinking that maybe he was deceived accidentally stung twice as badly. He didn't want to believe it, but a part of him felt that there was no other conclusion he could make.

After all, if his father really could do the things he thought, would he actually be here in this mess?

If his dad actually had the power he thought he did, then why was he here, at the mercy of the man's greatest enemy? Let's be realistic here: he was kidnapped by the man's greatest rival, forced to endure an assault against his father's abilities and ultimately left alone to brave the elements without any clue about what to do. How was he going to find food? Shelter? Water? What would he do if he met something that would want to take a bite out of him?

Unless his daddy was much more neglecting and ambivalent than he gave him credit for, the boy couldn't figure out a reason for why his father would do something like this consciously. Ultimately, it came back down to one thing: the one Piccolo seemed to be hammering at.

And that was that his dad didn't have the power to change it.

Most children subtly learn that their parents are human; that they aren't always right and can be helpless at times as well. It occurs over years and oftentimes it's a process with many bumps along the way. Rarely is the realization as sudden or dramatic or distressing as how it was coming forth to Gohan. The implications were immense to say the least.

Was his daddy the hero that he and the world needed? If he was powerless to stop him from being kidnapped by Piccolo, then could he really be capable of fighting these bigger scoundrels coming up in the future? The more he thought about it, the more he began to have doubt fester in his heart. And it sucked.

But there was a problem with the conclusion that Goku may not be the hero. If Goku wasn't the hero the world needed, who was?

This question was paramount to Gohan. For most of his young life, he had been raised on the concept that as long as he was a good boy and did his homework, he'd be rewarded for his efforts handsomely in the future. And, more importantly, all states of wickedness would be vanquished by the valiant force of a hero.

Unsurprisingly, the boy had assumed that this hero was his daddy up until today, and now that his faith had been shaken, a vacuum had formed where his daddy's lofty place was once held. If his dad wasn't the hero he hoped for, then who was?

Almost immediately, the boy had difficulties even listing names that could even compare let alone replace his father. The boy had written off all of Goku's friends—none of them were his daddy's equal, therefore really didn't warrant consideration. As for Piccolo, the green guy was a complete wild card that Gohan had no trust whatsoever in.

As the boy struggled to find a figure that could displace his daddy, the boy became more and more glum when he couldn't place a name on anybody. Getting more and more frustrated, it took him some time to realize what Piccolo had been hinting at all along.

That it was his responsibility to be the hero.

This disclosure was almost as shocking and subverting as the possibility of his daddy not being the hero. From the day he could walk, his studies were meant to be his life's work. He barely even knew how to throw a punch for gosh sakes. This was too much. He had no idea what he was going to do!

Nevertheless, he had a year to figure it out and there was one thing that was for sure: there wasn't a spare moment he could waste; not even a measly little second. If he even had a chance to be the hero the Earth needed him to be, then, whatever he did, he couldn't screw around.

Finding his resolve, the kid picked himself up and marched out of the wasteland into the wilderness. Strangely enough, as the boy descended out of the valley, the dim clouds darkening the scene began to part and the entire valley became inundated with fiery yellow light.

* * *

**And welcome to the inaugural chapter of Epiphany. After almost one-quarter of a million word with Cognitive Dissonance(my other story), some of my muses have been a little dissonant lately. And because I feel that CD isn't the type of story that can properly address these muses, I felt the need to write this. In any case, I hope reading this has brought a certain degree of satisfaction and I would love to hear what any of you have to say. **

**That's all for now. **


	2. What We Think We Know

Well over a month had passed since Gohan and Piccolo's fateful chat and initial preparations for the upcoming fight were still ongoing. Moonlight illuminated the wasteland that Gohan and Piccolo called home, basking the site in an evanescent glow. Perched atop a stone monolith, Piccolo quietly meditated as the prairie winds rustled his cape. It wasn't a loud noise, but given the Namekian's acute sense of hearing, it was an unpleasant distraction from his desired objective.

Time had not eased Piccolo's mind about the future battle or his uneasy potential alliance with the rest of the earthlings. Now, he wasn't assuming that those fools were stupid enough to openly provoke him before handling this new grave threat, but they couldn't exactly afford to be at each other throat's either. Nevertheless, all of them were probably only to get in his way in any case. Probably wasn't worth investing any time in.

Briefly opening his eyes, the demon crunched his teeth together, his nostrils flaring like a bull as power began to radiate off his form in flickering rays. Muscles beginning to shake, an offsetting image of the green alien began to materialize in front of the meditator. Even if at first glance this image appeared to be a hologram, it was very real. A true duplicate.

Suddenly, the calm emission of energy began to discharge violently in every direction. In a blink of an eye, Piccolo set his aura alight as his clone did the same. Moving forward, Piccolo and his clone advanced farther away from the pillar, settling in an open clearing one hundred feet off the ground.

Implicitly, albeit without an audible warning, the two duplicates charged each other. Knuckles slamming into each other, a loud boom reverberated across the hollow prairie. One punch became another, and before either party knew it, the slow paced strikes became a rapid exchange. Punches were parried and dodged, and kicks were stuffed long before they could deliver damage.

Grunting with exertion, Piccolo tried to front kick his clone, but the clone easily evaded the strike by phasing away from altercation. Reappearing above the original, the clone extended and overlapped his hands before firing a yellow ki blast at his sparring partner.

Immediately deducing the location of the copy, Piccolo craned his neck upwards and deflected the blast with the posterior side of his palm. Taking a second to glare at the replica, Piccolo shot his own retaliatory strike at his reproduction.

Taken by shock with the swift repartee, the duplicate left himself open to the reply. Hit square in the cheek by the yellow orb, an explosion enveloped the replica before the two patiently waited for the smoke to clear as the midnight oil still burned silently.

Back in a mirror offsetting position, the two Piccolos lunged at each other yet again only to disappear with no punches being executed. To an inexperienced observer, the only proof that the two titans hadn't disappeared was a momentary boom and a noticeable ripple in the air marking the spot where the two fighters had once been.

These ripples crisscrossed across the night sky, populating the wasteland faster than they could be dispelled. If you looked at these disturbances with a particularly quixotic eye, you could swear that they formed their own strange constellations in the foreground of the starry skies.

Decelerating out of the blue, the two Piccolo's returned to a standstill in the same spot where their fight had started. Feeling calmer and more in control, the Namekian stood stoically as his fighting double faded away and back into his belly. Stretching his muscles after the battle, the demon savored the feeling of his power flood back into his system. It was a sensation he didn't want to become addicted too though.

In recent weeks, the green alien had been feeling antsy and on edge, moreso than normal. Just about everything frustrated him and his latent thoughts weren't acting so latent any more. Deep down, there was something in him that was telling him that his efforts weren't going to be enough.

Failure wasn't a word that existed in Piccolo's dictionary. Although his memories of his 'sire' weren't always pleasant, the man's twisted whispering was still the predominant force on his mind. And that whisper wanted one thing: the humiliation and ultimate demise of Son Goku.

For most of his youth, that was his only goal. And for almost an equal amount of time, his labor had yielded no return. It was haunting and frying at the same time, and his 'sire' wasn't always patient with him about it. Upon Goku's death against Raditz, the demon had expected some peace of mind to come from achieving his goal. But instead of what he hoped, the internal conflict just intensified.

Something even more ominous than that though was lingering. His quest for strength was very much stalled, stymied even. No matter how hard he tried, or how hard he worked, it seemed that he never got as far as he pleased. By his own estimates, he was, maybe, thrice as strong as he was when he fought Goku the first time. At the rate he was going, he was never going to get strong enough to challenge these Saiyans!

An undercurrent of doubt, rooted in his past frustrations and current troubles, had festered subliminally in his mind. Something in the Namekian told him that he couldn't entirely rely on himself as he had wished too. That being said, any thoughts that even hinted at this unconscious message were actively persecuted by Piccolo's mind. Whether or not they were true, Piccolo had no intention of following them. He was still the demon king after all!

But that wasn't the only trace thought constricting him. Another muse, far more insidious in nature, had also taken a significant amount of real estate in his mind. This ruminant was wholly unsatisfied with anything but complete and total subjugation of the Earth. It was the King Piccolo that existed in him; the dark power that once rivaled even the mightiest overlords the universe had ever known.

Piccolo knew that submitting to this power would give him the energy needed to completely vaporize any threat that would conceivable come his way. Nevertheless, the Namekian just couldn't lower himself to following it, no matter how enticing it could be at times.

After all of his musing, the moonlight flooding the valley began to burn away as the earliest tendrils of sunlight crept up over the horizon. And as the sun slowly lifted up over the mountains, the area became equal parts dark and light.

* * *

Piccolo wasn't the only person around preparing for the potential apocalypse. The rest of the earthlings had been hard at work as well. Almost immediately upon uncovering the news, Krillin and Yamcha scurried back to Roshi's House to regroup and plan out what they were going to do from there. Almost like clockwork, Tien and Chiaotzu joined their party and continued the debate in earnest.

In almost the same amount of time, all of their discourse became effectively scrapped when Yajirobe's hover car careened across the seas before drifting onto the island. Stumbling out of the automobile, the samurai patted the dust out of his uniform before clearing his throat.

"Um, Korin told me to tell you that you're wanted on the lookout. Apparently, for some kind of special training," stated Yajirobe, his tone indicating that he really didn't want to be there. But like the hen-pecked warrior he was, well he couldn't exactly refuse.

"Really?" asked Yamcha, his eyes bugging out at the request. According to his own thoughts, the only person who could order people to the lookout was Kami. And the fact that somebody like the guardian of the Earth wanted his presence transcended any notion of flattery he knew. His heart pretty much swelled at the news. "Wow."

Shrugging his shoulders in response, Yajirobe closed his eyes and huffed dismissal. "I guess so; I'm just the messenger not the big man himself."

Scrunching up his face in contemplation, Tien crossed his arms across his chest as he tried to discern the reason for why they were given the honor of Kami's personal training. "Interesting that Kami would want us; I wonder what it could be for?"

"Dunno what to tell yah," answered the fat swordsmen, turning around before jumping back into his ride. Igniting the ignition, the hover-car slowly elevated into the air. Before blasting off back to whence he came, the coward shifted his posture so that he was looking at the rest of the earthlings. "Get over to Kami's Lookout. The old man wants all of us there, including. Can't see why, but it's the man's orders. See yah there." And with that, the swordsmen put the pedal to the medal and raced off into the distance.

"Well, I guess we better join him?" muttered Krillin, breaking the silence after the terse way Yajirobe left. Almost in unison, all of the remaining Z-fighters except Roshi ascended into the air and blasted off towards Korin's Tower.

Soaring through the skies, the journey to the mystical lookout was a quiet one. Everybody was too busy trying to solve the puzzle that was the last couple of hours to engage in some light-hearted or ultimately pointless conversation.

Reaching the tower at break-neck speed, the platoon swerved upwards and ascended up higher to the heavens. Passing by Korin's observation deck on the quest, the group braved the perilous conditions shadowing the lookout with systematic ease. In almost no time at all, the Z-senshi were pretty much on Kami's doorstep.

Climbing to the summit of the semi-circular sphere, the earthlings softly landed on the platform. With the sole exception of Tien, everybody else was floored by the marvel that they had been summoned too. The lookout was a true engineering marvel; none of them could even begin to fathom what it took to put a building of this up here or the measure taken to prevent it from falling from the heavens. It went over all of their heads.

The entire place was surreal. Its architecture was nothing like they had ever seen before and the entire structure was basically like one massive belvedere, giving wide panoramas of the Earth in every conceivable direction. In fact, the only one who didn't seem to be impressed was Yajirobe—who still had no noticeable interest in being there.

While admiring the landscaping, the earthlings barely noticed Kami and Mr. Popo quietly shuffle out of their quarters and approach them straight up. Standing in front of each other, Kami deeply exhaled and lightly pounded his cane on the ground to attract everybody's attention.

"Thank you for coming," acknowledged Kami, his back slightly bent so that his cane could support his frail frame. "I'm sure all of you are wondering why I've sent for you. Well, as you all may know, there is an imminent threat heading towards us that will arrive within the year. For the sake of the Earth's survival, I've called you here for an opportunity to train and learn about the nature of the enemies that you will soon battle."

Nodding their heads in agreement, a myriad of facial expressions dotted the faces of each earthling. Yajirobe was apathetic about the entire affair; he honestly believed that his attendance was not necessary because his contribution wouldn't be of any use. Krillin was happy, but he had lingering thoughts about what happened to Goku. And if anybody knew what happened to his best friend, it was the guardian and ambassador for the Earth. Tien was still trying to discern exactly what Kami wanted out of them. The old Namek probably had something up his sleeve and the former assassin was looking forward to what. As for Yamcha, he still looked flat out elated.

Read each of their expression like a children's book, the old guardian closed his eyes and sighed softly. "Goku is in the process of getting assistance from the greatest martial arts instructor in the universe. Rest assured that he will be ready to fight alongside you when the day comes."

Turning to Mr. Popo, the elderly sage quietly put his hand on the genie's back before discretely heading back towards his quarters. "Mr. Popo, please led them to the Pendulum Room."

Accepting the duty with a bob of his head, the pitch black spirit waved his hand to the side to beckon the group of earthlings towards the room. "Follow me this way."

Walking towards the main palace on the grounds, Popo eased the door opened and paced down the main hallway. Following in the back, the Earth-born warrior steadily advanced with the mystical genie. Finally, after a couple minutes of seemingly aimless wandering, Popo unlocked the door and ushered the earthlings in.

If Kami's lookout was strange before, then the Pendulum Room was some freaky part of a really strange LSD trip. In all of their lives, none of the Z-senshi had ever seen a room that eerily dark. You couldn't even see the back of your hand even if it practically silhouetted your face. However, Popo didn't seem to be phased by the darkness at all as he advanced through the room.

Taking his lead, the Z-senshi became awed when a distant specter of light began to greet them. Getting closer to dimly-lit magenta light illumination, Popo gently stopped when his entire form became clearly visible again.

Filing out around the strange light source, the earthling had to contain their shock when the Pendulum Room just got weirder. Apparently, the strange glow was coming from an occult-like insignia at the center of the room. None of the warriors could even begin to translate what the glyph meant; the only thing that even made geometric sense was a star in the middle of circle. And almost more strangely than that was the pendulum hovering over the circle.

"Step into the circle," advised Mr. Popo sternly, who was showing no signs of discomfort or uneasiness about being stuck in this strange room. It was like he had done this song and dance a hundred times before.

Cautiously doing as requested, four of the five hand-picked warriors walked onto the mystical emblem and turned around to await further orders. As for Yajirobe, he had no interest in doing some freaky kind of training.

But one of them, Krillin precisely, wanted to know exactly where they were and why they were doing this. "Excuse me, but where are we? What is this room? And why are we here?"

Predicting that somebody was going to ask questions along those lines, the black genie already had a speech ready to address these concerns. "The room we are standing in is called the pendulum room. The guardians of the past and present designed this place to manipulate the fabric of time and bring people back to specific events in the past. As for why you are here, perhaps it would be better to wait and see."

"Now, please close your eyes," requested Mr. Popo, his form as still as a statue until the four warrior did as he told them. When they did so, the lands-keeper flicked his fingers together and initiated the sequence to bring them to the past.

Although none of them could literally see it happen, most of the Z-senshi under the emblem could feel the magenta light radiate upwards past their bodies and towards the ceiling. Equally freaky, they felt a burst of teal energy strike them repeatedly as the magenta energy ascended up, creating a strange light effect. And then, it was all over.

* * *

Daybreak had settled over the wasteland that Piccolo and Gohan called home. Survival training had proven to be a very maturing experience for Gohan. Dealing with sweltering heat, torrential downpours and nasty predators required a certain degree of grit that was taking awhile to ferment in Gohan's breast.

At first, the transition between schoolboy and country boy was rocky to say the least. Having been sheltered his entire life; the boy didn't know how to do much of anything. Hunt, fish, where to take shelter, how to avoid danger—it was all foreign to him. They weren't skills he had focused on all that much prior to his abduction, and now he was paying for it.

The first couple of weeks were the worst. Learning all these skills had taken their toll. His haphazard attempts at hunting often bore no fruits, and oftentimes his inexperience meant he didn't eat to the indignation of his stomach. Adding to his woes, it took a few days to find a vacant cave or hollow to take residence in—and that was when he didn't get lost on the occasional day.

Slowly but surely though, he was learning how to do better. After his initial introduction to the wild, his hunting started to bear some fruit. Sure, some of it was dumb luck, okay a lot, but he was starting to figure out what worked and what didn't. Adapting was the name of the game in the wasteland, and Gohan's Saiyan nature was beginning to pay dividends.

Still, the boy couldn't quite feel a sense of pride for his growing accomplishments. Honestly, he was feeling more frustrated than anything. It had been a month and what had he actually done? He taught himself how to feed himself, where to run in case of trouble and how to use terrain around him to his own advantage? So! His dad probably could've done the same thing with his eyes closed!

And, even worse, it had taken all of a month to do it. Eleven more months, that's all he had! He could barely throw a punch, let alone take on people far stronger than his father. How could he accomplish what was needed of him, was it even possible? Gohan was beginning to doubt that he could be somebody even remotely capable of shouldering responsibility for the world he inhabited. Nothing he had done so far really proved to him that he was really the one Piccolo implied that he was. Then again, he never really believed it anyway.

These were the thoughts that plagued him when he was resting in his cave. He tried to teach himself how to fight, like how he taught himself to forage, but the endeavor just seemed fruitless. No matter what he did, his progression ended up stymied and his mindset became cynically languid.

Helpless. Despite his new sense of self-sufficiency, Gohan simply felt helpless. When his dad was alive, he never had these disillusioning thoughts. The pressure he was putting on himself to push forward was straining his resolve to the brink. He needed help, he needed somebody to support him in his time of need. But it wasn't going to come, no matter how hard the boy tried to coax it out.

However, there was a time and a place to be on your pity pot. When it was light out was not one of these times. Other matters like stuffing yourself took precedent. Sensing the emerging sun creep up over the horizon, Gohan exited his cave and leisurely strolled out into the open.

Basking in its fiery glow, the boy lightly combed his hair upwards before bringing them back down to his waist. Pricking his ears, the boy quietly scanned his surrounding for the distant prittle-prattle of small animals.

Hearing nothing, the boy decided that it would be for the best to advance towards the stream behind his cave. Following the stream due north, the boy broke away when he saw the distant outline of another stream intersecting the one he was following. This intersection was prime hunting grounds. All animals, big and small alike, tended to congregate there for obvious reasons and it was the easiest place to find prey in the entire rugged area.

Cautiously treading towards the watering hole, Gohan took cover behind a natural monolith only twenty yards away from the babbling brook. Getting his pudgy little hands in some of the nooks and crannies of the pillar, the boy began to climb to a perch about forty feet up. From his overlook, the boy could see the stream and its confluence with perfect clarity.

Surprisingly, the Saiyan found the entire area fairly depopulated. There were a couple big mesopredators and some small prey interspersed in the area, but nothing like the chaotic fair the place normally was. Sure, it didn't mean much to him, but the boy had to wonder why? It just was a bit confusing.

Suddenly, some of the animals began to scurry away too, like they had a sixth sense on what was to come that Gohan lacked. Even more puzzled, the boy glanced all over the vast panorama for the calamity that seemed to be sending everything running to the hills. It didn't take long for his questions to be resolved.

"RAGH!"

Out of nowhere, a massive brown tail lashed out at the monolith the boy was perched on. Cleaving the pillar in two, Gohan quickly made hay and jumped off his perch, diving head first into the brook before massive chunks of rock would fall into the waterway downstream, clogging it in the process.

Darting back to the surface, the Saiyan quickly paddled to the bank of the creek before rubbing the water out of his eyes so that he could see the new threat that had emerged. He almost immediately regretted his instinctive action.

Standing before him was the real-life equivalent of the big dinosaur from Jurassic Park mating with Godzilla. Well over five stories tall, the beast was one of the most terrifying things Gohan had ever seen with his own eyes. Quite frankly, he thought things like that were myths. Apparently they weren't.

"Wowie…he's big," noted the boy, stammering to get words to form. His trepidation got even worse when the gaze of the lizard began to gravitate towards him alone, unnerving him immensely as the beast began to drool. He really didn't want to be anybody lunch. `Maybe he'll leave me alone if I keep still?'

But that old wife's tale turned out to be complete hogwash. Roaring, the T-rex wannabe charged the boy, eliciting a high-pitched squeal from the chibi. Pivoting and pushing off with his lead foot, Gohan began to run like the boogeyman was after him.

Remarkably, the boy was actually able to outpace the dinosaur at first, although the predator was still very much nipping at his heels. But as time went on, and the distances got larger, the boy was able to put a marginal distance between him and the lizard. For all his bulk, the reptile didn't have the stamina of the adrenaline-fueled Saiyan child. Unless something happened, Gohan would surely get away.

Yet something did happen. At the absolute worst possible moment, Gohan tripped over his own feet and landed face first into the dirt. Flipping onto his back, the boy's face palled when the slobbering jaws of the massive reptile were staring at him straight in the face.

Reacting subconsciously, Gohan screamed as he rolled to his side, narrowly avoiding the fate of becoming his predator's dinner. Jumping onto his feet, the child bolted out of the shadow of the dinosaur like an Olympic sprinter. But regardless of how hard he ran, he could not escape the predator's tail, which lashed into him angrily.

Launched laterally into mid-air, the half-Saiyan sailed over football fields of earth before crashing into a nearby spire. His violent entrance compromising the structural integrity of the monolith, the kid could barely feel his toes as the entire mass collapsed on top of him.

Buried in a pile of rubble, Gohan tried to wiggle his way out of his stone tomb to no avail; his bony legs were going nowhere with the way they were pinned in place. Groggy and a bit dazed, the half-Saiyan barely noticed a steady trickle of blood pour down his temples and around the bridge of his nose.

Unfortunately, the bleak predicament that the demi-Saiyan was in was actually worse than what it appeared. Our favorite reptile was not giving up on its snack, even if a metric ton of dust and gravel was the distance between them.

Slowly but more and more ominously, the rocky tomb encapsulating Gohan became to move and writhe. Although dinosaurs are by no means well equipped at digging, the tenacity of the beast wasn't going to be left unfulfilled today. Even if it meant bashing its head or body-slamming itself into the rubble one-hundred times, it was going to be feasting on a tasty little morsel tonight.

Panic flared through Gohan's system as the animal kept digging, its effort growing closer to his sanctum. Frenziedly, the boy tried to unwedge his extremities from their prisons. No dice, he simply didn't have the power or will to overcome it.

Heartbeat accelerating, the boy's alarm intensified when his arms and legs finally went numb from being pinned into position for so long. Brow glistening with sweat and cheeks swelling up with a mixture of blood, perspiration and tears, the boy could only look on in horror as his line on life became more perilously frayed.

And what could he do about it? Absolutely nothing! It was the story of his life, ever since Piccolo had preached to him about his power. What power was this? If he even had a fraction of the influence Piccolo claimed he had, he wouldn't be in this mess at all. If he was truly capable of being a difference, he wouldn't be struggling to survive in a relatively benign environment. Being honest with himself, he simply was fooling himself this entire time. He wasn't cut out to be a warrior; he wasn't cut out to take his father's mantle even if he wanted too! And, in the end, he just may be joining his father too.

Meanwhile, light had just started to breach through Gohan's hollow. Sensing that his time was coming to nigh, the crescendo of terror building up in Gohan's gut began to spill over. It was all coming to head so fast, and he was truly now stuck in a corner with only one way out. Knowing that his efforts alone would lead to nowhere, the boy cried out to the one being his heart beseeched.

`Please daddy, save me!'

As if his prayers were answered, it was at this moment that he had been finally backed into his corner. And just like anytime he had no way out, his explosive power rushed to defend him. At the same moment, the reptile had finally broken through every bulwark protecting it from the wrath of the provoked child. Ironically, it was now the dinosaur that needed saving.

Lunging with vigor to snatch the bloodied child, the beast was stupefied when the rocks pinning the child in place were obliterated. Startled, the beast could only gaze in a stupor as the boy snapped to his feet like a soul possessed. Power cackling through his form, the child's blank stare pierced through the beast's simple mind, rendering it petrified. But this unnatural intimidation wouldn't last for long. Frightened, the reptile lashed out in self-defense, ensuring its untimely demise.

Sensing the threat coming, Gohan raised his hand and fired the most powerful energy blast he had ever summoned. Hitting the beast point-blank, the dinosaur was incinerated on spot. With the danger gone, the boy's power left him and he fainted on the ashen ground.

* * *

**And there you have it. The second installment of Epiphany. Should've been out sooner, but something in me recently just doesn't like to update for some unknown reason. Oh well. My apologies about that. **

**Review Responses: **

**S: I hope that he won't begin to have no faith in Goku though, Goku may have his faults, but he tries. It always seemed to me that Goku's biggest problem as a person was that he just didn't know how to be a father and didn't realize the consequences of some of his actions.**

**R: Well, as you can see from this chapter, it takes a lot more than a conversation to truly weaken Gohan's faith in his father. **

**S: I love Cognitive Dissonance and I love this. I look forward to even more and you are an amazing author. The grammar ans sentance structure is pretty good and spelling is great, so keep going strong! Until next time!**

**R: Thanks. I do try to write with my best grammar and syntax. I make a lot of mistakes but most of them are not due to apathy or anything willful in any case. **

**S: As I've already stated during the beta process, I don't find any faults with Piccolo or Gohan's characterization; Gohan's eventual acceptance of His father's death and the weighty reality of his responsibility was natural and well-paced. Again, I enjoyed the symbolic ending! Well done!**

**R: Yah, I enjoyed adding in the symbolic weather at the very end. However, I will like to point out that I screw around with the weather a lot as a symbolic device so stuff like that solely isn't for chapter one alone(as you probably surmised already). XD**

**S: However, you've basically taken this to the extremes, Phoenix. There is no possible way, I feel, that Gohan would ever lose faith in his father during this point in time. He may be a kid(I do admit that a child's mind is the easiest time to change this with), but that's also when his love and belief in his father is at its all-time high.**

**R: This chapter really wasn't about making Gohan lose complete faith in his father moreso than planting the seed of doubt. Despite his faith in his father, he couldn't defend him against what Piccolo was saying and that forced him to think. That being said, I think I made it fairly clear this chapter that Gohan's faith in his father is still fairly strong. His mask of resolve was simply that: a mask. **

**And as for the never lose faith part. We'll see. I have a lot of plot devices to go through before we get on that tangent. Nevertheless, his struggle about coming to terms with his father will be a rampart part of text-not something that was resolved in chapter one to go on and do something else. **

**S: Well that was an interesting first chapter. It's nice to see Gohan question himself. Piccolo does have good points and it's nice to see them addressed early on now instead of during the Cell Saga where Gohan had it cemented into his head for along time that Goku would save everyone.**

**R: Well, words can only take you so far, it seems. XD**

**S: I'd like to see where this goes! Pretty good writing style you have :) I like the descriptions and layout.**

**R: Thanks. I put a lot of effort into my descriptions. **

**And that's all folks. **


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